


Destiel Christmas

by JoshuaHisbert



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (sort of), Christmas, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 05:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoshuaHisbert/pseuds/JoshuaHisbert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a hunt, Sam decides that it’ be a good year to celebrate Christmas and teaches the traditions to Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiel Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> It's not very well written, but it's something to try and get my writting juices flowing again, and a Christmas present for my friend. I've never written Destiel before, but I tried xD   
> Also, this doesn't take place in any certain place of SPN, and had to be spoil free as my friend is only on season 6.

Everyone in Manhattan prepared for Christmas. Wreaths were hung on doors, large buildings seemed to be ever brighter than normal with the addition of holiday lights, and snow covered the streets. Carolers could be seen – and heard – as they walked or just stood in parks, spreading joy to everyone they came across.

Which is why it’s too bad Dean and Sam couldn’t be _there_ for Christmas.

Instead, they were at a remote location they couldn’t even be bothered to learn the name of, on another boring salt-and-burn hunt. Lately, it was the only thing they’d come across. They _could_ say it was like God have given them a break for the holidays, but they really didn’t think God would ever _try_ to help any Winchester alive, considering that it felt like the family was cursed at times. Or, well, most of the time.

They had already located the body and were currently digging up the gravesite. Well, Dean was digging up the site; Sam was standing guard. The older Winchester stopped for a moment, rubbing his arm against his sweaty forehead.

“Manual labor in the winter’s a bitch, Sammy,” he complained. “I think I’m gonna freeze to death. Why the hell can’t you just help me? It’d go by twice as fast.”

Sam sighed and shook his head, giving the same answer as he had five minutes ago, “I already told you Dean, there’s too many Christmas lights out. Doesn’t matter if it’s midnight, people would still be able to see us.”

“So why don’t _I_ stand guard, and _you_ dig?” Dean asked, which only caused Sam to smirk.

“Because,” he explained, “I’m your little brother, you should be protecting me from illness.”

“Seriously?!” Dean exclaimed. “That’s your only reason! I swear, Sammy, I will-.” He cut off as his shovel hit something hard – the casket. Slamming his shovel on the wood, he managed to break it with a good four hits.

“There,” Dean complained, pulling himself out of the whole. “You salt and burn. I’m gonna go thaw my hands out.”

“Why don’t you call your boyfriend and have him do it for you? I’m sure he could think of a few fun ways to warm up,” Sam teased.

“Fuck off,” Dean said, throwing a snowball at his brother’s head. Sam simply chuckled as he ducked out of the way and proceeded to cover the body in sault before dousing it in gasoline, leaving Dean to his own thoughts.

As much as Sam loved to tease his brother about his ‘boyfriend’, Dean didn’t really know if that’s what he would call Cas. He was… teaching the Angel about the joys of humanity. That’s it. And if that lead to making out in motels between cases, then so be it.

There was nothing wrong with that.

No emotions involved.

None, what so ever.

* * *

 

When they got back to the motel they were staying at for the rest of the week, Castiel was waiting for them on the couch, watching Cartoons. His head was tilted as he attempted to study what was going on, and probably making some deep analogy in his head about things anyone else would just laugh at.

But bother Winchester boys could admit that Castiel wasn’t just anyone else, albeit they each had different reasons for that thought.

The moment Castiel heard the door shut behind the brothers, he muted the TV and turned around to face them before asking, “Did you succeed in your mission?”

“No Cas,” Dean answered, rolling his eyes. “We both got brutally murdered by a ghost who was _petnapping_ things because of some fucked up childhood story I couldn’t be bothered to remember.”

“There’s no need for sarcasm, Dean,” the angel responded with a slight glare. Dean muttered an apology before Sam took over.

“Well, at least we finished that before Christmas.”

“Christmas? I wasn’t aware you two celebrated such a holiday,” Castiel responded, confused.

“Yeah, well, I just use it as an excuse to get drunk. It’s perfectly allowed on Christmas,” Dean answered, collapsing on the couch besides Castiel.

“Like you even _need_ an excuse,” his brother muttered, crossing his arms and sitting on one of the two beds.

“Hey, don’t dis my traditions,” Dean said in an attempt to defend himself.

“Well, this year, no bars. We’re going to have a _family_ Christmas. You, me, and Castiel,” Sam said with a pointed look at both Castiel and Dean. “Three beers max, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Aww, c’mon, Sammy. I’m sure Cas here has more important things to do.”

“I am actually free on the day of the twenty-fifth,” Castiel answered. “Although I do not quite understand the point of your holiday and ‘Jolly Saint Nick’, I would be happy to join you two.” Sam grinned, an Dean sighed before standing up.

“You want Christmas so bad? Fine. Explain the holiday to Mr. Feathers over here while I go take a shower.”

When Dean walked back into the main room fully clothed an hair slightly damp, Castiel was watching ‘The Grinch’ on the laptop, and Sam was sleeping in his bed. Without looking up, the angel spoke to Dean.

“I don’t quite understand. How can one man – or, creature, I suppose – steal away the entirety of a holiday? It does not have a physical form, and he does not have a mind manipulation machine, and I cannot think of any other way to remove the entirety of a special occasion that he would be able to do.”

Dean prayed for patience as he responded, “He stole their presents and decorations, Cas, which took away their spirit. Really, it’s all explained if you listen.

“Yes, well, thank you for the explanation anyways, Dean,” Castiel responded before closing the laptop. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. “Sam explained your holiday to me.”

“That so?” Dean asked, leafing through a newspaper on the table.

“Yes. He informed me of caroling, the event of exchanging gifts, and of little children believing in a man who falls threw their chimney and leaves them gifts if they were nice,” he answered.

"Santa freaks me out,” Dean admitted with a shrug. “Fat-ass coming into my house at night when I’m asleep? And he ‘sees me when I’m sleeping’? It’s pretty freaky.”

“Dean,” Castiel stated with a straight face. “Santa Claus is not real.”

Dean sighed, “Yeah, I’m aware.” The angel looked confused for a moment before dropping the subject.

After a moment of silence, Castiel spoke again, “Do you… not want me here for Christmas?” At Dean’s raised eyebrow, he elaborated. “You don’t seem as excited as Sam does about me joining you.”

“It’s not you,” Dean sighed. “I’m just not too into the holiday, is all. It’s a family holiday, Cas, and Sam and I grew up in a pretty damn dysfunctional one.”     

Castiel nodded. “I see…. So, you _don’t_ mind me staying with you, then.”

“’Course not, Cas,” Dean admitted with a soft smile.

“If that’s so, there is one Christmas tradition I’d like to try with you,” Castiel admitted, keeping a straight face and giving nothing away.

“That so?” Before Dean even finished his sentence, Castiel had vanished. Within moments he was back, just as Dean knew he would be. He looked right at the angel and raised his eyebrow once more.

“So, what’s this tradition?”

Castiel simply smirked and looked up, Dean following his gaze. He laughed as he saw Castiel’s hand holding mistletoe above their heads.

He smirked before saying, “Well, I’d hate to break tradition,” before leaning forward and pressing his lips against Castiel’s. It stayed a simple press of lips for only a moment before it quickly grew passionate.

Dean let his mind clear of everything except Castiel. He was always most relaxed when with his angel. Because at times like this, he really _was_ Dean’s. Dean was the only one to ever see the man become this undone, see him at his most vulnerable. And that thought turned Dean on more.

And it also made him love the man just a bit more.

* * *

 

Dean woke up to an empty bed, which he normally wouldn’t find odd, even if he’d fallen asleep next to a warm body. But the odd thing was, he’d fallen asleep next to Castiel – and Castiel was _always_ there when he woke up. Even though he was always _awake_ , he always stayed with Dean.

His mind immediately flew to images of Castiel being in trouble. It was the only logical reason Dean could think of as to his ‘partner’s (for lack of a better word) disappearance. So he hopped out of bed far too fast for the early morning, and headed out into Sam’s room right next door, not caring that he was outside in just his underwear.

“Sam!” he called, shoving his key in the lock. “Sam, we gotta go, Cas is-.”

“I’m what, Dean?” came a familiar voice. Eyes wide, Dean glanced at the Christmas tree put up on the far side of the room only to see a familiar-looking face sat under it.

“The fucks up with the hat, Cas?” Dean asked with a laugh.

“Sam informed me of this being another tradition – people wearing the same hat worn by Santa Claus. Was that information incorrect?” Castiel asked, tilting his head.

Dean shook his head, still laughing slightly. “No, no, people do wear them, it’s just-… you look ridiculous, Cas.” Frowning, Cas moved to take it off, but Dean had already walked over and swatted the angel’s hat away, his face less than an inch away from the other’s now.

                “No, keep it on,” he smiled. “You look adorable.” He leaned in for a kiss when he heard the clearing of someone’s throat behind him and sighed. “What do you want, Sammy?” he asked harshly. But you couldn’t blame him, really. His brother really was quite the cockblock, and he knew it if the smirk on his face was any indication.

“Just thought you two might want some Christmas breakfast,” Sam smirked, handing over a pie with a single fork in it.

Dean glanced from the pie back up to his brother before grabbing the tin and saying, “Yeah, fine, you’re forgiven.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Sam chuckled.

“Bitch,” Dean complained threw a mouth full of pie.

“Jerk,” Sam said, having already moved to put logs in the piece-of-shit fireplace they had his room.

Dean ate in silence for moment, already having eaten a quarter of the pie before holding a forkful up to Castiel, “Want some?” When the angel shook his head, Dean insisted. “C’mon Cas, it’s like a freakin’ party in your mouth. I mean, seriously-. You know what, no, I’ve got a better idea.” And with that, Dean shoved a forkful in his mouth before turning to Castiel with a pie-filled grin and pouncing.

“Dude, I’m right here!” Dean heard his brother call, but he ignored him in favor of rubbing his pie-coated tongue against Castiel’s clean one.

The last thing he heard for the next half hour – besides his and Cas’ breathy moans, of course – was the sound of Sam’s muttered complaints and a door shutting.

Forty-five minutes later found Dean and Castiel sitting by the now strongly-burning fireplace, fully clothed – much to Dean’s disappointment. But the Winchester _had_ managed to convince his partner to sit in his lap, much to Castiel’s discomfort (which faded mere moments after sitting in the other’s lap. It was more of the thought that was uncomfortable than the actual action.).

Dean was rubbing his angel’s arm as the hunter’s head rested on Castiel’s shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” the angel muttered softly.

“Merry Christmas, Cas.”

 


End file.
